I'll Be Your Sunset, If You'll Be My Silhouette
by Cela Fille
Summary: - "When I am miles away, will you still check on me? Tell me things will be alright. Just tell me we will be together someday." ::oneshot::


**wow. **

**it's been a while. **

**the beginning's similar to that of "poison kiss" because i wrote this one first and thought i'd never post it but i did and i'm too lazy to change it and i really should stop rambling uselessly and- ohmagahh, are those popsicles?!  
**

**enjoy :)  
**

* * *

_Step back and see me walk away  
And watch me run right back.  
I'll show you how to love again._

-I'll be your Sunset, A Rocket to the Moon

**-c.f-**

Concentrating solely on your the sandwich your housekeeper made for you, you don't bother to look up and watch in fascination as your two best friends get into one of their frequent arguments- this time, over something along the lines of what was better- Sailor Moon or Pokemon. Personally, you think Pokemon is cooler, 'cause well, Pikachu is pretty awesome. And, well, you've also developed a slight crush on Misty... though you'd never admit _that _to anyone.

"Sailor Moon is better!" the short brunette says in a 'contradict-me-and-you'll-pay' type of voice, and you lift your mismatched eyes to see Derrick glaring at her with a boyish defiance that only he can muster when faced with the wrath of an angry Massie Block.

"Nuh uh!" Derrick says loudly, his face turning red. "Pokemon is way better! Sailor Moon is for sissies!"

"Did you just call me a sissy?" Massie demands with a quivering edge to her livid tone. You know fully well that she could jump up and yank every blonde hair off of Derrick Harrington's head, but her determination to, as she had told you before, 'act like a lady' was stopping her.

"Yeah, I am," He smirks and crosses his arms across his chest. "What're you going to do about it, huh?"

She opens her mouth to retort, but luckily for you, the teacher enters the classroom, abruptly stopping all conversation.

"Children," she starts, a wide smile (probably from that 'botox' thing Massie was commenting about) gracing her face, "We have a new student joining our class today,"

Immediately, all eyes fall on the tiny blonde girl who skips through the door, a innocent grin on her face.

"This is Claire Lyons. I hope you all welcome her nicely to Westchester."

You watch as she smiles and waves at an open-mouthed Derrick and Massie fumes. Her amber eyes rake over the small blonde's shiny Mary Janes and bright blue silk ribbon tied in her waist-length hair with a hint of jealousy, but she looks impressed. You, on the other hand, observe new girl's smile- it's wide, mischievous, and there's a space between her two front teeth. You've never seen anything more beautiful.

**-m.b-**

"Ella or Vera?" you question, holding up the two slinky dresses with a frustrated sigh.

"Vera. Fo' sho'." Claire smirks and drapes her long, slender legs over the armrests of the comfy chair. She pauses a moment to glance at the new text message on her hot pink Sidekick LX and waves the screen up in the air like a flag. "Derrick wants to know when we're going to get to his place."

"Eight," you reply, trying to smooth over the waver in your voice. "We need to look fabulous- the entire school with be there!"

"Massieeee," Claire whines, running a manicured hand through her crimped, gold waves. "You always look perfect. Can we just go?"

You turn your infamous glare on her, but she doesn't seem fazed. Of course, _Claire _could waltz around wearing a dirty wifebeater and tube socks and still capture the attention of everyone in the room.

"No," you snap firmly. "This is _the _biggest party of the year, and we are going to make an entrance!"

You fear that she might detect your undertones- why you really want to look perfect at the party. You've failed to admit to anyone that you like Derrick, but strongly suspect that everyone knows it already. After all, the girls he always flirts with shy away when they see your glare, and ever girl he's ever shown interest in has gotten, well, a _warning _from you. Anonymously, of course. You refuse to admit that you're acting like a jealous girlfriend. Because you're so not. Puh-lease.

--

You arrive at the party. The entrance is flawless, and every eye is on you. Or at least, on the girl standing beside you. Claire giggles and makes her way across the room in her five-inch Manolo Blahniks, the combination of her gold sequined L.A.M.B minidress and flaxen curls drawing envious eyes. She pulls a flustered Cam Fisher away from a suddenly irritable Dylan Marvil and runs a manicured hand through his jet-black hair that spills into his smoldering blue and green eyes.

From across the room, you can see her mouth _dance with me, _and he complies; the two of them stumble to the dance floor and immediately begin dancing (rather... dirty, you have to admit) to Get Buck in Here. Claire grins at you and you roll your eyes. She always insists that they're 'just friends' but you _know _that they're a couple just waiting to happen.

"Hey, you made it," a low voice says behind you and you whip around to see a grinning Derrick Harrington. Running your hands down the sides of your turquoise and silver Vera Wang wrap dress, you press your glossed lips together and try very hard not to squeal.

"Duh," you manage to say, smirking. "I had to find something to wear this dress too,"

He chuckles and you quickly grab the edge of the love seat beside to you steady yourself. For a split second, you see him glance over to where Claire is with something indescribable in his eyes, but the emotion is gone faster than it had appeared.

"Wanna dance, Block?"

**-c.l-**

Within a week, Massie Block and Derrick Harrington have become the new "It Couple" of Briarwood Academy. You're happy for them- especially Massie- whose ever-present glares and smirks have been replaced with genuine smiles and a lighter, carefree expression. But you haven't failed to notice that Derrick always glances at you when they're sharing intimate kisses in the hallways or the way Cam stares at Massie when she throws her head back and lets out a tinkling laugh.

"Hey," Cam mumbles and lies down beside you on the grass, throwing his messenger bag off to the side. The two of you lay like that for a few moments, silent, wondering idly if your teachers notice that you're skipping class.

"So," he begins, twisting a strand of grass between his fingers and glancing over at you. "How's life been treating you?"

The two of you continue to just lay down and talk, gazing up at the soft, periwinkle sky. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders- just talking about nonsensical things with Cam. Being with him was as easy as breathing.

At the end of a glorious, wasted two hours, you finally stand, brushing off any stray grass from your cotton paisley C&C sun dress and give a hug to the boy standing beside you.

"Thanks," you mumble into the crook of his pale neck, and he visibly stiffens, but returns the hug. Lifting your head up, you're struck by the blazing intensity in his eyes.

You don't pull away when he presses his lips to your own.

--

Massie squeals in excitement when she hears the news, and showers you with compliments- "You guys are so cute together!" and "Ehmagawd, we should totally double sometime!" and "It's about time!" and the like.

You take her enthusiasm with good grace but know the truth. You and Cam are perfect together- and like every proper tragic love story, there's a catch. You're in lust with someone else.

When you two are having a long and thorough PDA in the middle of the courtyard, you look at Derrick.

When he's feeding you gummy bears during lunch, you look at Derrick.

When he's whispering sweet nothings in your Cartier diamond-studded ear, you look at Derrick.

And Derrick's staring right back at you.

**-d.h-**

You're not sure when it started. Maybe it was that drunken Spring Break at Griffin Hasting's Aspen chalet or the wild raves after the New York State Boy's Varsity Soccer Championship. All you know is that somehow, you're standing in a bathroom with her pinned against the wall and her legs wrapped around your waist, running fevered kisses down her collar bone as she moans and clutches your hair and breathes your name in your ear.

_"Derrick,"_

Your hand travels up the side of her indecently short skirt and you fight the urge to do anymore. Anyone could walk in. Massie, Cam...

You know she doesn't love you. Not like she loves Cam, her precious _soul mate_.

But, with a bitter grimace, you bask in the knowledge that it sure as hell isn't Cam's name she whispers when you're together.

--

It's Valentine's Day and you buy Massie Block, your loyal girlfriend of four years, the amethyst and diamond necklace she had been eying when she dragged you to Tiffany's the week before. She gasps (even though you know fully well that if you _hadn't _gotten it for her, she would probably hire Isaac to run you over with the Range Rover, shred you to pieces with her talon-sharp nails and feed you to her beloved Bean) and hugs you and pulls you in for a kiss all the while gushing about what a romantic boyfriend you are. Even if it had been Cam who went out and bought it when you had urgently called him the previous night for ideas.

The four of you go out on a double date that night, and a combination of bad sushi, too much wine, and almost getting convinced into taking some 'happy' pills, causes to date to end abruptly and a very drunken Claire needing to be carried home.

"I got it," you mumble and carry her up the stairs, with an irritable Massie and a confused Cam waiting in the foyer. Pushing the door to her room open, you lie her down on her four-poster bed and smile slightly when she clings to your neck and shakes her head.

"No," she mumbles. "Don't go. Stay here,"

"Claire, you're drunk-"

"No!" she slurs, and clings on tighter. "Stay with me."

She pushes her lips against your own and you stand there for a moment, startled, before slowly prying her hands off your neck and to her sides. You can still taste the strawberry lip gloss from her lips and throw the silk sheets over her.

"Goodnight Claire," And after much debate, you whisper, "I love you."

She squints through her glazed over eyes and stares at you.

"I love you too, Cam."

The words hurt more than expected and you abruptly turn away and storm into the foyer, where Cam and Massie sit awkwardly beside each other on a love seat. Your lips are still sticky with strawberry gloss.

"I'll see you later, man." Cam says, looking uncomfortable. He glances back at Massie for a split second before waving and pushing through the door.

Massie doesn't meet your eyes and you realize that her gloss is smeared too.

**-c.f-**

Westchester thrived on appearances. You realized this before, but now it was painfully obvious. The escapades between your girlfriend and your best friend. Your infatuation with your best friend's girlfriend. You knew. Claire knew. Derrick knew.

But, everyday, you'd continue the masquerade- whispered _I love you_s while kissing behind the lockers, in full view of everyone; holding hands while striding through the hallways; attached at the hip during socialite parties. It was what everyone _didn't _see that mattered. Stolen kisses. The brushing of fingers. Fevered breathing from the corners of the house that everyone was too buzzed to notice.

But Massie... she didn't know.

--

You knew the day would come. And sure enough, at exactly 11:54 PM on Saturday, June 7th, a knock came from outside your bedroom door. Pushing open the door, you were greeted by the sight of a disheveled Massie Block. Her eyes are red from crying, mascara streaks running down her cheeks, and only one battered Jimmy Choo dangles from her hand. She comes in without asking and slams the door behind her.

"Cam. Please. Help me," she whispers, and even though her hair is tangled and her skin is unnaturally pale, she still looks beautiful to you. She shudders when your run your fingers along her bare shoulders and looks at you with amber eyes dripping with tears- begging you to just _do it. _"Please," she breathes in your ear, and her hands clutch tightly to the front of your shirt. "Cam, _please._"

You do.

--

When you wake up, sunlight is streaming through the drawn curtains and giving your room a faint red glow. Glancing beside you, you see alabaster skin instead of tan, and rich chocolate waves instead of gold and wonder if you're doing something wrong. Her eyes are closed, and you've never seen her look more serene. Running a hand through your jet-black hair, you let your head sink into your pillow and go back to sleep.

When you wake up again, there's an empty space beside you and only the lingering smell of Cinnabon lipgloss and Chanel No. 5 remains.

**-m.b-**

A fight. A break up. A breakdown.

You scream things you don't mean and hope he says something equally callous to you.

Instead, he just stares at you with his deep brown eyes and you feel all your power dwindling away.

**-d.h-**

"I love you." you say quietly and she stops her shouting and stares. You're stuck at how much like a porcelain doll she is- delicate and fragile- something you'd feel terrible for breaking.

"What?" she rasps and turns away.

"I love you."

It's true. You do love her. You just love her best friend more.

**-c.l-**

College couldn't come soon enough. You all move in your own directions. You at USC, as far away from Westchester as possible. Derrick and Cam at Brown in Rhode Island. Massie in New Haven at Yale.

The graduation party is hosted by Massie and you awkwardly try to avoid speaking to your ex-best friends. Cam broods alone in the corner, inhaling down scotches. Derrick acts more raucous than usual, flirting with three girls at once and continually glancing your way. Massie is the perfect socialite hostess as per usual, chatting it up with her many guests with a fake smile on her face.

So when you board the plane three hours later, you sigh with relief. You're away from it all. A few bitter tears escape and splatter on your tightly clenched fists.

--

You don't date around that much in California. Actually, you completely avoid male contact, and sit in your dorm while your social butterfly of a roommate flounces off to the latest sorority party in a flurry of turquoise and hot pink. Instead, you lounge on your bed in your favorite USC hoodie and pajama pants while typing away at your cherry red MacBook. A small box opens at the corner of the screen.

**One New Message from: Derrick Harrington**

You quickly press delete and immediately go to bed.

**-m.b-**

Yale is everything you dreamed of and more. The girls are less catty and more real, the guys aren't pot heads, and you've even secured yourself a new potential boyfriend- Chris Plovert- the complete package. Blonde hair, blue eyes, hot-intellectual-type glasses. Yep, he's definitely nothing like Derr-

Stopping suddenly, a stupid freshman bumps into you and you send her an icy glare. She retreats quickly and speed-walks away, glancing back every few seconds. You promised yourself that you wouldn't think about any of those back-stabbing whores back in Westchester. Taking a sip of your Caramel Macchiato, you lift your head up high and strut down the sidewalk of the Yale campus like a runway.

--

"Hey Block!"

An obnoxiously loud voice interrupts your Econ homework. You look up and scowl to see a grinning Nikki Dalton, clad in bright, neon blue tights with gray leg warmers and an equally loud Cobra Starship tunic.

"May-sie, you got mail!" she trills and throws a thin letter at your face. There's a messy tear across the top of the envelope and you glare accusingly at your roommate.

"Dammit Nikki, did you have to open it?"

"I was curious." she replies lazily and sits cross legged on the floor, sweeping her poker straight, jet-black hair into an artfully messy bun as she speaks. "So, are you gonna go?"

"I haven't even read the damn thing yet!" you growl and shoot her another look that you usually use to intimidate those frosh that compliment you everyday on your outfits. Instead, she just smirks and slides a thick wad of Big League Chew- grape-flavored, no less- into her mouth slathered with Urban Decay by Sephora.

"Dude, chill. Are you, like, PMS-ing or something?"

Ignoring her, you open the letter and begin to read.

_Dear Massie Block,_

**You're cordially invited to Briarwood Academy's Class of 2012 High School Reunion. It will be taking place on-**

Immediately, you crumple the letter and toss it carelessly into the trash.

"Yeah right!" you scoff and turn back to your Econ reading.

"Sissy!" Nikki coughs and hides her face behind an old Vogue magazine.

"I am not a sissy!" you hiss and you're suddenly back in your kindergarten classroom where you're sitting with a certain Cam Fisher and Derrick Harrington, insisting that Sailor Moon is better than Pokemon. The ghost of a smile flits across your face and you quickly wipe it off. "Hell no. I am not going."

"Miss Massie Block, so called 'alpha'," Nikki snorted, "Is too scared to go to a wittle high school reunion? Oh, the shame."

"Shut up! I am not scared!"

"Prove it!" She grins maliciously and her bottle green eyes shine with excitement. "Go to the reunion. I dare you."

Even though daring is so middle school, when Nikki Dalton says it, it's as good as selling your soul to the devil.

"Fine," you mutter, gathering your books into your hand before striding to the door. You weren't getting any studying done there anyway.

"Hey, maybe you'll see that Cam kid again!" Nikki shouts before the door slams behind you.

**-d.h-**

"Hey man," Cam pokes his head into your hotel room, his hair gelled back and a half smile on his face. "You ready yet?"

"Uh, yeah."

You take a final look in the mirror, not caring that Cam's snorting at your girlish tendency to actually give a shit about how you looked before a party- after all, you're not the one wearing hair gel.

Unsurprisingly, you end up sitting at the bar alone while Cam talks to Kemp Hurley and his steady girlfriend, Layne Abeley- a totally hot, but too punk for your taste, chick he met at Columbia. Huh. And you always thought Kemp would grow up to be a fat, Playboy-reading loser who lived in an apartment paid by his loaded Dad. People change.

You hear a warm giggle behind you and your breath gets stuck in your throat as you spot _her_. She's leaning against the wall carelessly, midnight black and gold cocktail dress clinging to her slim body in all the right places, and her silky blonde hair swept up into a messy bun with a few tendrils hanging one either side of her face. Her make-up's simple, in bronze and champagne colors with a dash of coral-colored lip gloss. She looks stunning, but different. Her smile is friendlier, more innocent, less seductive. Her normally jaded, party-girl vibe is replaced with a solemn kind of beauty, quieter but still eye-catching. She was holding a glass of amber liquid to her lips, while Griffin Hastings leans in toward her, a lustful glint in his hunter green eyes.

You immediately stand up and make your way over to her. You catch her eye and her smile falters and she gives a quick excuse to an irritated Griffin before moving away. You run toward her and grab her wrist before she leaves the room. She stares at you with a look of desperation and you loosen your grip.

"We need to talk."

**-c.f-**

"Cam!"

You smile slightly as your girlfriend floats up to you and wraps a protective arm around your waist. Her lustrous raven hair cascades down her back and she's looking absolutely stunning in her pale gold slip-like dress. Kemp Hurley's eyebrows are in danger of disappearing into his hairline and he smirks.

"Oh wow, Cam. And I always thought you were homo!"

His girlfriend- Layne, was it?- smacks his arm and makes a hasty excuse before tugging Kemp away.

Alicia giggles and looks up at you with a megawatt smile, her chocolate brown eyes boring deeply into your own.

"This is so much fun!" she enthuses. "Your friends are so cute!"

You chuckle at her child-like expression and fondly wrap an arm around her slender shoulders with a smile. It was no surprise when you began to date Alicia Riviera. Probably because she had warm mocha-colored eyes instead of fiery amber or because she was bubbly and playful as opposed to commanding and too hard to please. Mostly because Alicia Riviera was the polar opposite of Massie Blo-

"Cameron Fisher," a voice drawls behind you. "What a _pleasant _surprise."

You whip around and freeze.

She looks exactly how you pictured her. No, that's a lie. There was no way you could imagine that she would look so fucking _beautiful- _more beautiful than usual, if that was even possible. Pale, porcelain-like skin. Dramatic, floor-sweeping scarlet gown that looks straight off the red carpet. Her familiar smirk, with her lips painted deep red. Damn.

You suddenly feel clammy and your grip loosens on your girlfriend's shoulder. Alicia looks at the both of you curiously, and raises her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation of some sort. You don't give her one and continue to stare at the woman in front of you, desperately wishing that you had decided not to come to this reunion. She fixes her intimidating amber gaze on Alicia and her lips curve into a downright _evil _smirk, causing you to subconsciously step between the two of them to protect her.

"Hello there, I don't believe we've met," she says slyly to Alica, holding out a thin, manicured arm to shake. "I'm Massie Block."

"Alicia Riviera. Pleasure to meet you," Alicia says softly, holding out her tanned hand tentatively as though scared to be electrocuted. Massie's smirk widens and she glances at you with a look that's both scheming and sexy, that you're unsure what to do.

"Pleasure's all mine," she says in superior voice and she reaches out to grab a drink and her smooth as silk fingers brush your hand. You shudder. "Cameron, darling, is this your fiancee?"

"Girlfriend," Alicia corrects and smiles at you. You stare at her, unsure and worried at what she might say. Massie tuts and takes a sip of her red wine.

"Girlfriend," Massie repeats in a slightly mocking tone. "My, my, my, Cameron, I can say for certain that you have surprised me. I thought you said that you already proposed to your _girlfriend- _about a week ago, was it? Oh dear, that must have been Allie-Rose! I always get the names of your multiple significant others mixed up."

"Bu-but, Cam and I have been dating for a... year..." Alicia trails off and her eyes narrow at you menacingly. "You sick bastard!" She shouts and grabs Massie's drink from her hands and pours it all over your head before running away, sobbing. You try to run after her but your feet refuse to move. You glare at Massie's satisfied expression.

"Fucking hell, Block, was that really necessary?" you growl as angrily as possible. An entire year's relationship, in the trash. All thanks to lies fed to your gullible girlfriend by Massie Block. The smirk on her face turns into a nasty frown.

"Yes, _Fisher. _You deserved it."

It probably a mix of frustration toward her and the urge to rip her clothes off and ravish her that causes you to grab her violently and yank her out the doors.

"Let go of me, asshole!" she snaps, trying in vain to pull her arm away.

"No, Mass. Walk with me."

**-d.h-**

"Forever," Claire breaths, smiling sleepily as she gazes at the stars. You reach out slowly and gently entwine your fingers with hers. She doesn't pull away. Neither of you have spoken since you led her up the stairs and onto the roof of the building and lay down on the cold concrete. She fixes her questioning gaze on you and you stare helplessly at the dark sky.

"Forever," you pause, thinking. "Is a really long time." She frowns slightly, disappointed, and starts to pull her hand away. You tighten your grip and don't let her go. "But maybe... if you had someone to spend it with. Maybe then it could be pretty fucking magical."

And you kiss her under the moonlight.

**-m.b-**

"It's been hell."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I missed you... a lot."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It was like... hell."

"Excellent way to put it. You're quite the raconteur."

"Massie, I..."

"What?"

"It's just, I- I... Massie, I-"

"Just shut up and kiss me, Fisher."

He complies and you smile.

**-d.h, m.b, c.l, c.f-**

Now, you look back on your relationship with those three people and don't know whether to laugh, cry, or just say 'fuck it all' and go raid your parents' stash of bourbon. Because your life was effed up, screwed up- whatever you want to call it- but nevertheless... you'd have it no other way.

* * *

**that was weird. and probably made no sense. but whatever. **

**review please?  
**


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